


The Worst Holiday Ever

by roebling



Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, M/M, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-14
Updated: 2012-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-31 04:39:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roebling/pseuds/roebling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer has never had a good Valentine's Day. A story about coffee and mistaken impressions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Holiday Ever

**Author's Note:**

> A short, largely silly piece of fluff. This has been done many times, and better, but writing this was entertaining, and I hope reading it will be as well.

Spencer has never had a good Valentine's Day. Not one. Not even in elementary school. He hadn't been one of the popular kid; he'd gotten the rejected Yellow Ranger Power Ranger cards and the crushed, unwanted bags of Sweeties. In middle school and high school when the student government tried to raise money for scholarships by selling chocolates and roses that errant cupids (really, the members of the football teams wearing fake wings and halos) delivered to your sweetheart in homeroom, Spencer never got one. He'd pretended to be so over it, rolling his eyes when Julie Smith (they sat next to one another, year after year, victims of alphabetization) giggled and blushed at the cheap candy she'd been sent by her many admirers.

Secretly though, Spencer wouldn't have minded a Valentine. He wouldn't have giggled and blushed, probably, but he wouldn't have minded.

In college Spencer's romantic prospects in general had improved, but Valentine's Day itself remained problematic. The guy he dated sophomore year ended up getting sick with food poisoning from the sushi they had for dinner, and Spencer spent Valentine's night in the emergency room with him. The relationship had suffered after that. Ryan set him up on what was to become the first of many blind Valentine's Dates his junior year with a guy named William, who took Spencer to a club and spent most of the night making out with one of his exes.

Not a highlight. Not close.

After graduation, Ryan and Spencer decamped to New York. Spencer thought things might get better, but they hadn't. His romantic prospects weren’t completely desolate; he’d dated adorable, smart Ezra for a solid nine months, but they'd gotten together in March and had fallen apart before Valentine's Day rolled around, which had meant another holiday alone, feeling bitter at all the displays of cheap chocolates in the drug store.

Last year Ryan set him up with Christophe, an intimidatingly handsome furniture designer from Copenhagen. Ryan seriously overestimated Spencer's appeal, physical and otherwise, because Christophe hadn't looked thrilled when he'd walked into the restaurant, and when he learned that Spencer had never heard of Alvar Aalto, the conversation had slowed to a halt.

After dinner ended and they'd shaken hands in frigid, formal way, Spencer had gone to the bar at the end of his block and gotten astoundingly drunk. He'd had to call Ryan to come and get him, even though he lived only two hundred feet away.

This year, he's not letting Ryan set him up. He's not going to any singles mixers. He's not buying any stupid red cards or dumb candy. Spencer is boycotting Valentine's Day this year, whether or not Valentine's day notices.

Spencer is pretty sure his miserable Valentine’s Day streak will end one year or another. He's not planning on staying single forever, but he doesn't think this year's going to be the one.

He runs out the door, and then ends up waiting twenty minutes for an A train. Spencer works downtown, in a glossy office building where a lot of important people do a lot of important things. Spencer doesn't do anything important. He's the personal assistant to a motivational speaker. It's not a great job, but he's twenty four and he has a useless bachelor's degree in developmental psychology. He’s been tossing around the idea of going to grad school, but he hasn’t worked up the motivation to take his GREs yet. His job kind of sucks, but it pays the bills and leaves him lots of free time to dick around on the internet at work, so it could definitely be worse.

Every morning Spencer goes to the same coffee place to get his coffee. He avoids Starbucks like the plague, not only because Ryan convinced him at some point that it is essential to support small businesses, but also because the Starbucks nearest to his work is full of scary business types, handsome athletic guys his age or just a little older that wear suits that cost more than Spencer makes in a month and are always yammering on their phones.

The coffee place Spencer goes to is small and cozy, with handwritten signs and shabby chairs in the long dark seating area in back. There are two barristas who alternate working every morning -- Gothic Lolita Girl (awesome purple hair and giant bows) and Singing Guy (Spencer walked in one morning to find him belting out Rocket Man; he’d had a pretty impressive voice). Gothic Lolita girl is nice, and she makes a good latte, but Spencer's day is always just a little better when Singing Guy is behind the counter. He doesn't know Spencer's name, and Spencer doesn't know his, but he's a friendly, familiar (hot) face, he makes a perfect soy latte, and he always wishes Spencer a good day. It’s a stupid little thing, but it means Spencer starts his morning smiling.

Singing guy is working today. Spencer takes that as a sign that, despite the ominous date, it might be a decent day after all. That must not be reflected in his expression because as he walks up to the counter Singing Guy asks, "What's got you so down this morning?"

Spencer shrugs. He's not going to spill his guts about his absolutely pathetic dating life. "Just busy," he says.

He doesn't even ask Spencer's order, which would be kind of weird, except that Spencer's been coming here five days a week for the last year and a half and he order the same thing every tine.

"Ah, the life of a man of business," Singing Guy says. "No rest for the wicked, right?"

"Uhhh," Spencer says. He's not really sure what it is Singing Guy thinks he does, but it sounds a lot more impressive than Spencer's job actually is. (He spends a lot of time booking flights for his boss, and checking his messages, and photocopying and collating. Oh god, the collating.)

"You must have something special planned for tonight, right?" Singing Guy waggles his eyebrows. They're dark and kind of bushy but they work with his bold, expressive face and his faux-dorky hipster glasses. "I mean, it's Valentine's Day. You spending it with someone special?" There's something weirdly beseeching about his tone.

"Ummm," Spencer says. "Not exactly ..."

Singing guy's eyes light up. "No?" he says. He turns on the steamer to steam Spencer's soy milk, and is drowned out by the hiss. Carefully, he pours the steamed milk into the cardboard cup. Smiling, he hands it to Spencer.

The foam is in the shape of a perfect heart.

"If you don't have plans, maybe we could go grab a drink or something?" Singing Guy looks hopeful, his smile broad. "I'm Brendon, by the way."

Spencer is so surprised he says nothing.

Hot, cute, funny Singing Guy -- Brendon -- is asking him out on a date? On Valentine's Day? Things like this happen in romantic movies and sit-coms, not in real life, and certainly never to Spencer. Brendon is so far out of Spencer's league that he hasn't even bothered to entertain a crush on him. It seems so unlikely that Brendon would actually ask him out on a date that Spencer is sure this is just fate looking for an opportunity to make one more Valentine's Day miserable.

He's waited to long to say anything. Brendon's face falls.

"I shouldn't have said anything," he says, turning quickly away. "Wow, super embarrassing."

"No, wait ..." Spencer says quickly. There's a man behind him in line now, and he grumbles unhappily at the delay.

"Just forget it," Brendon says, with some force. "Fuck, I'm so stupid. Like just because Mr. Hot Business Guy comes here for coffee he's going to want to have anything to do with me."

"Brendon ..." Spencer says, surprised and unhappy.

"Seriously, forget it," Brendon says. He turns to the next person in line, and Spencer is left standing there, holding his latte. The heart has started to blur, and it's quarter to nine. Brendon, voice falsely cheerful, is helping the next person in line and studiously avoids looking in Spencer’s direction. Feeling like the world's biggest jerk, Spencer hangs his head and leaves.

At work, he sits and stares miserably at his computer. He'd been half tempted to call in sick, and now he wishes he had. Faking sick, sitting on the couch watching re-runs of _It's Always Sunny_ and eating take-out Thai is a pretty pathetic way to spend Valentine's Day, but it probably wouldn't have resulted in any heartache.

He should have said yes. He should have just said yes, but he knows that if he had if he had met Brendon for a drink, it would have turned into some sort of disaster that Spencer would never live down.

Actually, it kind of has anyway. Seriously, Valentine's Day is the worst.

On his lunch break he goes to the park a few blocks over and calls Ryan.

"Singing Guy asked me out," he says.

"What?" Ryan sounds preoccupied. He doesn't really have a steady job, just a series of temporary but somehow wildly lucrative engagements as an 'artistic consultant'. Spencer doesn't know what that means, and he tuned out after five minutes the one time he asked Ryan to explain.

"The guy!" Spencer says. "From the coffee shop! I've told you about him, remember?"

"Ohh," Ryan says slowly. "Yeah. No, I don't remember."

Spencer frowns. He's only eaten half his tuna fish sandwich, but wraps it back up in disgust. "He asked me out," he says darkly.

"So why do you sound like you want to murder things?" Ryan asks.

"It's Valentine's Day!" Spencer says. "Valentine's Day! My least favorite day in the entire year, dude. Why couldn't he have waited until tomorrow?"

"Well, he probably thought it would be more romantic ..." Ryan pauses. "Wait, did you not say 'yes'?"

"I didn't really say anything," Spencer says, miserable.

"Oh," Ryan says. "You idiot."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "It's just ... I know if I went out with him today something awful would happen and he'd end up never speaking to me again and my fragile sense of self-worth would be crushed _and_ I'd have to find a new coffee place." He sighs. "I can only take so much, dude."

"You better go back before his shift is over," Ryan says.

"Yeah?" Spencer isn't so sure that's a good idea. What if Brendon is mortally offended and throws a cup of hot coffee in his face? That ... seems kind of unlikely, actually. Ryan has the reputation for drama in their friendship, but Spencer can hold his own.

"Yeah," Ryan says. "If you don't you're going to need to find a new coffee place anyway, because he's going to think you're the biggest asshole in the entire world."

"I guess you're right," Spencer says, glum.

"I usually am," Ryan says. "Text me once you've talked to him, Spence."

He hangs up.

Spencer scowls. It's a cold, sunny day. The little bodega across the street has big buckets of red roses out front. They're not very nice, but he buys a bunch. Steeling his shoulders for inevitable rejection, he goes back to the coffee shop. Apart from a few people with laptops, it's empty. A woman about his age that Spencer doesn't recognize is behind the counter. He never comes here in the afternoon.

"Hey," he asks. "Um, is Brendon here?"

She shakes her head. "Oh no! You just missed him. I guess you were what he meant when he said he had plans tonight, huh?"

Spencer's heart sinks so low it's probably in the basement. "Umm."

"He really just left a few minutes ago ... said he wasn't feeling great and wanted to go get some sleep."

"Oh," Spencer says. God, he feels like the biggest idiot in the entire world. He’s ruined Brendon’s entire day.

"Hopefully he'll be back on his feet before tonight." She smiles brightly.

"Right," Spencer says. "Thanks."

He stuffs the stupid roses in the garbage can on the corner and goes back to work. Spencer spends the rest of the afternoon on an idiotic assignment -- researching new combination scanner / printers because his boss thinks the old one looks 'dated'. He reads page after page of poorly written reviews and wondering if there's anything he can do to make things better.

If there is, he doesn’t think of it. He doesn't come up with any magical plan to woo Brendon. He doesn't know Brendon's last name, or phone number, or anything. He goes home and eats leftovers for dinner and falls asleep in front of the television before nine o'clock.

Spencer wakes up grumpy the next morning. His back is sore from sleeping on the couch and he still feels like an idiot, but at least it's not Valentine's Day.

Spencer's never had any real problems with February 15th.

He showers and dresses and squeezes into the cramped subway car like a sardine in a can. Purely reflexively, he finds himself standing in front of the coffee shop. Through the window he can see Brendon behind the counter. He feels uneasy, and he's pretty sure there's another coffee shop around the corner he could switch his patronage to. He'd never have to see Brendon again.

That's Spencer's first impulse, but February 15th is a new day, and if he's ever wants to think about this mess without feeling like a huge jerk, he's got to do something. He opens the front door. The little bell above it jingles, announcing a customer, and Brendon looks up. When he sees Spencer, his face darkens.

"Large soy latte?" he mumbles as Spencer approaches the counter, turning away to start making the drink before Spencer can even say a word.

"Brendon, wait," Spencer says. His chest is tight with nerves. "Listen, I'm really, really sorry about yesterday."

"You don't have to be sorry," Brendon says, still not looking at him. "I mean, you're probably really busy with important stuff and you're um, really gorgeous, so I'm sure guys are asking you out all the time. I don't know what I was thinking."

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm a personal assistant," he says. "I'm a personal assistant. My boss is a motivational speaker and I make photocopies. Well, mostly. Yesterday I read consumer reviews of printers ... but yeah. Not that important."

Brendon has paused. He looks up, confused. "But you're always dressed so well. I just thought ..."

Spencer's cheeks are a little red. "My boss likes me to be presentable," he says.

"Oh," Brendon says, frowning again. "So you just weren't interested then. I get it."

"No!" Spencer says, too loudly, attracting the unwanted attention of some of the people sitting in the cozy little chairs. "No I ... I am. I am interested. I don't come here every day just for the coffee."

That might be among the most mortifying things he's ever admitted out loud.

"I don't get it," Brendon says. "Then why did you act like I had the plague when I asked you out?"

"I was surprised," he says, honestly. "I didn't think you'd be interested in _me_ , and it was Valentine's Day. I've never had anything good happen to me on Valentine's Day, ever. When you asked me out I thought it must be some kind of cosmic joke."

"Funny," Brendon says, voice still a little harsh. "That's kind of how I felt too."

Spencer knew that there was no guarantee Brendon would forgive him, no guarantee that after what Spencer did Brendon would still be interested, but the tiny flame of hope he'd kindled extinguishes suddenly at Brendon's words, at his tone.

"Sorry," Spencer says. "I'm really sorry I ruined your Valentine's Day. It's the worst holiday ever."

"I'm starting to agree with you," Brendon says. He's pouring the steamed milk into the cup.

Spencer gets out his wallet to pay. He can't say he feels great, but at least Brendon doesn't think it's his fault any more. It really, really isn't.

Brendon hands him his coffee. There's another perfect heart drawn in the foam.

"I'm really hoping I don't regret this," he says, half to himself. "Since we've got a whole three hundred and sixty four days until the next Valentine's Day, can we give this another shot?"

"What? I mean, of course, but really?" Spencer can't believe he'd be this lucky.

"Yeah," Brendon says. "I mean, I've been wanting to ask you out for months, so ..." He clears his throat. "Maybe you could start by telling me your name?"

"Right," Spencer says. "I'm Spencer."

"Do you want to grab a drink with me tonight, Spencer?" Brendon asks. "We could meet at like, six?"

Spencer thinks that this could be a bad idea, could still potentially be a disaster in the waiting, but if he doesn't say yes, he'll never know. "Yes," he says. "I definitely would."

Brendon smiles. “Cool,” he says. “Maybe with enough practice, we can not screw things up so badly next year?”

Spencer’s not sure he’s going to be able to make it through the first date without screwing up. “I need a lot of practice,” he admits.  
“First session tonight, then,” Brendon says, grinning. “Give me your phone.”

Spencer hands it over. Brendon types in his number.

“I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer says.

Brendon gives him another smile, and then turns his attention to the next customer waiting.

Spencer walks outside into the winter sunshine with his heart feeling light. He’s still pretty sure that Valentine’s Day is the worst holiday ever, but with a little more practice … well, he might be willing to revise his opinion.


End file.
